


With Strength and Might

by gaysparkler



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dorian and Lavellan are totally friends, Dorian is concerned, Fluff, Friends do that right?, It's all fun and games until your crush challenges the big muscly guy, Lavellan vs Iron Bull, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Sparring, playful fighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 16:06:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11360871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaysparkler/pseuds/gaysparkler
Summary: Inquisitor Lavellan challenges the Iron Bull in an unarmed fight. Dorian Pavus is worried that it might go horribly wrong.





	With Strength and Might

**Author's Note:**

> It's not a sad one!

Dorian was peacefully reading in his library—technically, it was not his, but the Inquisition’s—sitting in a very comfortable leather chair when Cullen ran up the stairs leading to the alcove, panting.

“You’re going to want to see this,” he said, out of breath, a smile on his lips.

“Commander, I am in the middle of…”

“No,” Cullen interrupted, “you _really_ want to see this.”

“Fine,” Dorian sighed, marking his page in his book, stretching his limbs as he stood. He set the book aside, making a mental note not to forget it like so many others before.

He followed Cullen downstairs, down to the throne room, crossing Varric by the hearth, who shot the Commander with a knowing look. Dorian quickly observed the main hall, noticing that the Inquisitor was missing. Since the breakdown he had after Haven, Samael and Dorian had grew closer and the latter was always making sure that his friend was okay. Him missing worried Dorian a great deal. When Cullen had noticed that the mage was not moving anymore, he strode to him and squeezed his upper arm, pulling him slightly forward.

“Come on, we don’t want to miss it,” he urged.

“You’re all being very cryptic,” Dorian objected.

Cullen glared, Dorian sighed. They walked out of the hall, went down the stairs until they reach the newly constructed fighting ring. At Dorian surprise, he saw the Inquisitor, wrapping thin strips of linen on his fists, wearing a sleeveless shirt that left his arms exposed. The dark fabric hugged his thin frame, perfectly defining his svelte silhouette. His long brown hair was done in a braid, held with leather cord, exposing his rather handsome face and delicate neck. Dorian was so glad he came along, jabbing an elbow in Cullen’s ribs when the former Templar noticed the slight blush on Dorian’s cheeks.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Boss?” Iron Bull’s voice rang through the courtyard.

“Certain,” the Inquisitor answered enthusiastically. “I’ve been waiting for this forever!”

Dorian finally tore away his eyes from Lavellan when he understood what was happening. He hastily crossed the small crowd gathered around the training ring. He reached out and grabbed the Inquisitor’s arm. The skin was so soft.

“Sam—Inquisitor, are you insane?”

“Don’t worry, Dorian,” Lavellan laughed. “There are things you don’t know about me.”

The Iron Bull was on the opposite side, getting ready as well, an unconvinced expression on his features. He was looking at the small elf who challenged him to an unarmed duel a few hours prior. No matter how many times the Inquisitor assured him he knew what he was doing, Iron Bull was still worried about the claims. What if he harmed the mighty Inquisitor? On top of that, Dorian had informed him—to an extent—of what had happened with Lavellan after they had arrived at Skyhold. As he was wrapping the linen strips around his fists, he finally decided to trust the man who had challenged him. If this was what he needed, he would not turn it down. He looked up from Lavellan, only to lock his gaze on Dorian’s. The man’s face was twisted with worry, shooting an angry glare, a promise: _if you hurt him, you_ _’re dead_. Iron Bull only nodded, smirking and cracking his knuckles.

The first punch was thrown by Iron Bull, obviously. The crowd gasped in unison. At the last second, Samael ducked. Their movements seemed like a dance. The Iron Bull always attacked, the Inquisitor always avoided the blows. Dorian’s stomach was in a knot. It was only sparring, but Lavellan was easily third of Bull’s weight. The Qunari falling on him by accident would surely kill him. The elf never turned his back on his opponent, moving backwards and in circles around the training ring. The crowd held their breath.

It’s when the Inquisitor fought back that the match got even more interesting. Having figured out the Iron Bull’s pattern, he finally moved closer to the Qunari, ducked one of his attacks and while he was still low, raised his elbow to jab him in the ribs. Being so much smaller was an advantage in this situation, Dorian noted. Lavellan did not have to crouch too much to avoid the Iron Bull’s fist, therefore making it easy for him to strike back. His attacks consisted of knee and elbow jabs and low kicks on sensitive spots. Each successful strike made Bull grunt and double his efforts to land a blow on Lavellan, but the elf was so close to him that he was not able to reach him with his attacks. Iron Bull was getting tired and Lavellan knew.

“Come on Chief, don’t let this scrawny kid beat you!” Krem’s voice echoed through the courtyard.

Somehow, this comment managed to give energy to both opponents. The Inquisitor wanted to prove that he was not a “scrawny kid”, but in fact a skilled warrior and Iron Bull wanted to defend his honour as a man who won all his combats. Samael ducked, tucked himself in a ball and rolled away from Iron Bull to resume their first dance and catch their breath. Neither of them attacked for a few minutes, only walking in circles and glaring at each other. At everyone’s surprise, the Inquisitor made the first move, jumping high enough to hit the Qunari square in the chest. It was so fast and unexpected that Iron Bull had not seen it coming. He fell to his knees, the air knocked out of his lungs. Using the energy generated by his previous attack, Lavellan swirled around Bull, grabbing the horn on his blind side and pulled his head, along with the rest of his body, to the ground. The Inquisitor stood tall on the fallen man, victorious. The crowd roared at his unexpected victory. Dorian joined in, his worries forgotten, feeling immense pride for his good friend.

“Low move, Boss,” Iron Bull half-coughed, half-chuckled.

Lavellan helped him back up.

“I didn’t know you expected a fair fight,” he joked.

“Don’t mess with him,” Iron Bull shouted. “He’ll beat you up and he fights dirty!”

Lavellan burst out laughing, accepting a towel handed to him. He wiped the sweat on his brow, his gaze crossing Dorian’s. He tucked the flyaway strands of hair behind his pointed ears and made his way towards Dorian, jumping over the training ring. Before he could reach him, he was swarmed by the sea of people that had witnessed the fight. He shook hands, accepted accolades and congratulations. To be fair, not a lot thought that their Inquisitor would win, not even Dorian. Cullen, of course, had known all along. Leliana had informed him of Lavellan’s abilities.

Eventually, the crowd slowly dissipated, which finally allowed the Inquisitor to reach Dorian, who had been right by the ring, but he was pushed around when the crowd around it went wild. He looked up to Lavellan, who seemed absolutely radiant even when he was covered with filth. A bright smile illuminated his face, his eyes were bright.

“I told you not to worry, Dorian,” Lavellan laughed.

“Well how was I supposed to know you were a prodigy at unarmed combat? I thought you would at least use magic,” he replied. “You need to tell me how you learned all of that.”

“I’m not that unfair in a fight,” Samael opposed. “One must be able to defend themselves without the aid of magic.”

Dorian was brought back to when he first met the elf in the Chantry in Redcliffe, beating a Shade with his staff, and agreed with the statement. He suddenly felt his worry overcome him once again, even though the fight had ended. Dorian closed the distance between him and the Inquisitor, wrapping his arms around the smaller man, unbothered by the sweat. He wasn’t the Inquisitor anymore, right now, he was Samael. No need to keep up appearances after hours.

“I’m sorry,” Samael whispered, “I didn’t mean to worry you this much.”

“Nonsense, I’m delighted to see that someone here can defeat that obnoxious beast,” Dorian answered, almost pressing a kiss to the top of Samael’s head.

They remained locked in an embrace much longer than normal friends would, until Iron Bull shouted to get their attention, offering to get some drinks. Samael declined, the memory of what happened after Haven still fresh in his mind, but promised to come another time. Instead, he and Dorian spent the last hours of the evening together, arms linked, walking on the battlements. As the sky grew darker, Dorian was only more tempted to kiss the man in front of him. Samael looked up to him, eyes sparkling, lips slightly parted. Dorian leaned in, but a scout ran up to them to inform the Inquisitor of an urgent war meeting. After a quick goodbye, Dorian was left alone on the battlements, kicking himself for not having kissed that expression away from Samael’s face. It seemed like he was getting attached after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading <3


End file.
